"They'll be the A. F. C. outfit," said Bridger, and he smiled broadly.
"Rich pickings they'll git," snorted Baker.
"I'm glad they've come," said Bridger. "I had them in mind while Lander was trading in the Crow robes for me. I don't want to pack 'em to St. Louis. The A. F. C. outfit will take 'em back to Fort Union rather than go empty-handed. Want to come along. Lander?"
Lander flushed with pleasure at the honor of this invitation and mounting his mule followed his chief up the river to meet the newcomers. There were a score of Indians, full bloods and breeds, in the outfit. One white man rode in advance. On beholding Bridger and Lander he spurred ahead to greet them.
Lander gave a loud cry and nearly fell from his mule. Bridger reined in and stared in amazement.
"Malcom Phinny!" he ejaculated.
"No one else," replied Phinny, smiling genially.
A wonderful wave of joy suffused Lander's whole being. By some miracle the dead was alive. The path to St. Louis and Susette was open. This tremendous discovery that no homicide was charged against him forced him to for-
